


Bernie

by Persiflage



Category: Holby City
Genre: A play, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bernie Wolfe/Alex Dawson (Mentioned), Bernie Wolfe/Marcus Dunn (Mentioned), Bernie Wolfe: World's Okay-est Lesbian, Best Friends, Despair, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Grief, Hopeful Ending, Inspired by..., Naked Female Clothed Female, New Beginnings, Play: Barnes' People - Rosa, Serena Campbell/Edward Campbell (Mentioned), Serena Campbell: Bisexual Extraordinaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:22:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29626269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Alternate Canon: Bernie Wolfe, a doctor specialising in geriatric care, has finally been beaten by the NHS. Fortunately, her best friend Serena Campbell, is on hand to help her cope.
Relationships: Serena Campbell & Bernie Wolfe, Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 24
Kudos: 79





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Corvidden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvidden/gifts).



> After _Original Theatre_ announced that Jemma Redgrave would be starring in a revival of Peter Barnes' [_Barnes' People - Rosa_](https://originaltheatreonline.com/productions/17/barnes-people-rosa-starring-jemma-redgrave) I ordered a copy of the play to read and the idea for this fic was in the back of my mind once I'd read it. Then I watched Jemma performing the monologue last Thursday and the idea solidified into this fic. 
> 
> Special thanks to corvidden for helping me to write a better ending.

Dr Serena Campbell arrives at the surgery where her best friend, Dr Bernie Wolfe, works simultaneously with Bernie’s long suffering office manager, Donna Jackson, and after a momentary bafflement Donna sighs and says, “Let me guess, she’s inside?”

“I don’t have absolute proof of that,” Serena says, “but she did leave me a message very late last night.” So late, in fact, that Serena’s phone had been on silent since she wasn’t on call and isn’t working for the next couple of days, either. The voice mail message had been slurred yet triumphant in tone, and Serena’s unsure what to expect as Donna unlocks the door, then goes to turn off the alarm. Serena steps inside as soon as she hears the alarm go off, then the two women head through the building to the office at the back where Bernie’s likely to be holed up.

Serena opens the door and steps inside, then blinks as her eyes begin watering at the pervading reek of Famous Grouse whisky, which is Bernie’s particular poison.

“I’d better go and get some coffee,” Donna says with another sigh. 

“Better make it Turkish,” Serena says, wafting a hand in front of her face. “And breakfast: bacon butty and a pain au chocolat.”

“And for you?”

“I’ll have an Espresso and a pain au chocolat, please Donna.” She passes the other woman a twenty pound note. “Get yourself a coffee and whatever, as well,” she says.

Donna nods, then says, “I’ll lock the front door again, but I’ll leave the alarm off.”

“Thanks.”

Donna goes back out and Serena turns back to the sleeping form of her best friend: she and Bernie Wolfe had met at medical school and had remained close throughout their student days and beyond. It had been Bernie who’d put Serena up when she and her ex-husband had split up after only two years of marriage; she’d found out he’d been shagging all and sundry behind her back, including while she’d been in hospital suffering from a miscarriage. She’d also helped Serena nurse her mother, Adrienne, through Alzheimer’s, and had supported her when Serena had discovered, months after her death, that Adrienne had given birth to a daughter a few years before she’d had Serena, then put that daughter up for adoption. In turn, Serena had had Bernie’s back through two disastrous relationships, the first with Marcus Dunn, an orthopaedic surgeon at the nearby St James’ Hospital, the second with Alex Dawson, an anaesthetist at St James’. The latter had followed Bernie’s reluctant admission that she’s actually a lesbian, something that Serena had been fairly sure about back in their student days.

She sits on the edge of the sofa, behind Bernie’s bent knees; the blonde is lying on her left side and facing the back of the sofa, her head pillowed on a cushion and her hands, which are tucked under her left cheek. As she looks down at her, Serena’s overcome with a wave of love for this brilliant, angry, awkward woman, and she wonders if there’s any chance that her best friend will ever become her lover. She’s loved Bernie Wolfe all the time that they’ve known each other, but in the last few months she’s realised that she’s _in love_ with Bernie, that she wants far more from her best friend. She hasn’t dared to say anything because Bernie has repeatedly declared that she’s better off alone in a tone that Serena knows of old: the stubborn tone of a woman who will fight tooth and nail either for or against something, depending on what that something is, and no amount of arguing will get her to change her mind.

She brushes the backs of her fingers down Bernie’s cheek, then tucks some of her unruly blonde hair back behind her ear. “Come on, love, time to wake up,” she says.

Bernie makes a sort of snorting noise, then says in the bleary tone of someone who’s hungover, “Wha’?”

“Time to wake up, Berenice Griselda Wolfe,” Serena tells her.

“God,” she groans. “I must be in trouble if you’re using my middle name, too.”

Serena chuckles, then watches as the blonde shifts awkwardly onto her back, groaning as her stiff muscles protest. 

“Time is it?” she asks. She still hasn’t opened her eyes.

“8am. Your first appointment will be here soon.”

“No appointments today,” Bernie tells her, finally opening her eyes, which are bloodshot and red-rimmed. “No appointments ever again.”

Serena jerks her head back in a classic double take. “What have you done, Berenice?”

“Resigned,” Bernie says. “Emailed the NHS trust last night and told them I was quitting.” She blows out a breath, then starts coughing, and Serena grabs her forearms and hauls her upright. 

“You’ve really quit?” she asks, getting to her feet and crossing to the water cooler, before returning with a plastic cup of ice cold water in each hand.

“I’ve really, finally bloody quit,” Bernie says. “Thank Christ.” She accepts one of the cups of water and knocks it back in one, her head tilting back and exposing the play of muscles in her neck as she swallows. Serena blinks, then looks away before her best friend can spot her ogling her. “Thanks.” She takes the second cup, their fingers brushing against each other and Serena blinks again at the electric thrill of the touch, even though it’s nothing new.

“Wow,” Serena says. “I hardly know what to say. I mean, you’ve been threatening to quit for the past year, I just didn’t expect you to actually carry it out.”

“I can’t take it anymore, Serena,” Bernie says, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I’ve tried and I’ve tried. Christ, I’ve spent twenty five years trying to make things better and for what? This bloody Government doesn’t care that its elderly poor people are just sitting or lying about in care homes waiting to die, many of them wanting to die because they can see no reason to live any more. I just – the fight’s gone out of me, finally. I’ve lost my rage.” She presses the palms of her hands to her face, but Serena can see tears leaking out and she wraps her arms around the blonde’s shoulders and pulls her head down to her chest.

“It’s okay, love, I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Serena says quietly. “Let it all out, love.” She squeezes Bernie tightly. “You just have a good cry.”

The blonde sobs brokenly in Serena’s arms and she does her best to comfort her best friend, rubbing a hand up and down her arm and murmuring words of encouragement to her. 

Which is how Donna finds them when she comes back with their coffee and breakfasts, although Bernie’s sobs have tapered off into sniffles, a handful of tissues pressed against her nose and mouth.

 _Thank you_ , Serena mouths as the young woman sets the cardboard coffee cup carrier on the edge of Bernie’s desk, before adding two paper bags and a recycled cardboard food box from which is emanating the scent of hot bacon.

That penetrates Bernie’s misery, causing her to lift her head from Serena’s bosom as Donna slips back out of the office, closing the door behind her. 

“You got me breakfast,” she observes, her voice hoarse from sobbing.

“I did,” Serena agrees. “Well, Donna did. I figured you’d need it, not knowing you wouldn’t be dealing with patients this morning.”

“Thank you, Serena. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such a good friend as you.”

“You don’t have to do anything to deserve me,” the brunette tells her. “I’m not a prize to be won. We’re friends and this is what friends do for each other.” She rubs a hand up and down Bernie’s back. “Why don’t you nip to the bathroom and wash your face, then we can have breakfast together and talk about what happens next.”

“Okay.” Bernie gets up, wincing a little, then astonishes Serena by leaning down and pressing her lips to the brunette’s forehead. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Likewise, love,” Serena tells her. 

Bernie gives her a tremulous smile, then makes her way across the office and out into the corridor while Serena busies herself setting their breakfasts and coffees out on the small round table in front of the sofa. 

When Bernie returns, looking slightly less worse for wear (she’s dragged a comb, or more likely her fingers, through her hair and tied it back in a small ponytail again), she goes to her desk and pulls open the bottom drawer, from which she extracts a plastic bag. “Change of clothes,” she tells Serena, who is giving her a puzzled look. “I always keep some here just in case a patient’s sick on me, or something.”

“Makes sense.” Serena’s a bit gobsmacked when Bernie proceeds to takes off her cardigan, then her shirt, before pulling a clean shirt from the bag and putting it on, all with a total lack of self consciousness. She finds herself licking her lips as she watches the other woman, her desire for the blonde soaring at the sight of her breasts enclosed in a plain black sports bra. She blinks, then forces herself to look away before Bernie spots her ogling. 

Once she’s pulled her cardigan back on, Bernie sits down beside Serena and reaches for the Turkish coffee that Donna’s purchased, along with two Espressos. Serena sips her own coffee for a few moments while she downs the Turkish coffee, which she knows the blonde prefers when she’s had a late night dealing with a patient in crisis or her stack of outstanding paperwork, since it packs more of a punch.

“Oof, that hit the spot,” she observes, setting aside the cup and reaching for the cardboard food container holding the bacon butty.

Serena lets her get about halfway through, passing her some tissues when she ends up with a splodge of ketchup on the corner of her mouth, then asks, “What are your plans, now?”

Bernie gives her a reproachful look, which Serena interprets as disappointment that she isn’t letting the blonde eat her breakfast in peace. “Alright, sorry, finish your breakfast, then we’ll talk.”

Bernie finishes chewing, swallows, then says huskily, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She grabs one of the bags containing her favourite pain au chocolat, and the two of them eat in a companionable silence that Serena always savours.

Eventually they finish their breakfasts and their coffees, and Bernie slouches back into the corner of the sofa, looking less wrecked than before, to Serena’s relief. She leans back into the other corner of the sofa and gazes a long while at her friend, taking in the skinny black jeans she favours (and which Serena secretly envies since she doesn’t have the figure to pull them off), the clean white shirt, and the thick woollen zippered cardigan she’s wearing with the jeans. 

“I bet I look a wreck,” the blonde says quietly.

Serena snorts. “I’ve seen you looking more wrecked,” she teases. “Remember Sacha and Essie’s wedding?”

Bernie groans. “Don’t,” she begs, but she’s smiling now, the little half smile that she seems to reserve for Serena.

“You look a little dishevelled,” she tells her, “but not too much worse for wear.”

“Good.” She tilts her head from side to side and Serena winces when she hears the crack of cartilage. “I suppose you’re wondering what brought this on? Me finally quitting, I mean.”

“I am, a little,” Serena agrees. 

“Like I said earlier, I’ve lost my rage, and without that to power me on, I can’t go on any longer. I just can’t.” She sighs, looking down at her ankle boots. “I saw three patients yesterday, 85 year old Mrs Hoggart, who’s widowed, slightly deaf, and lives with her daughter in a council flat in Aldgate. She’s got thrombosis of the right leg and suffers from avitaminosis resulting from a Vitamin A deficiency. She spent the entire interview staring at the china ducks on the wall opposite her chair. She struggles to do anything for herself and since her daughter, Muriel, works full time, she can’t really care for Mrs Hoggart herself. Currently the granddaughter, Emily, isn’t working so she’s been caring for Mrs Hoggart but of course, if she gets a job, that will no longer be an option, so she’s being moved into a care home.”

Bernie sighs heavily, vigorously rubbing a hand over her face. Serena doesn’t say anything, but she does reach out to squeeze the blonde’s knee. She’s a little startled when Bernie grabs her hand and squeezes it tightly. 

“Sorry,” she says, starting to pull her hand away, but Serena retains her grip on it.

“No apology needed,” she says quietly. “We all need a hand to hold at some time or other. I think you’ve needed one for a very long time.”

Bernie flushes, then looks away. “Yes,” she whispers. “But I couldn’t admit it.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of,” Serena assures her. “I know you find it hard to admit to needing help.”

Bernie startles her still further by lifting Serena’s hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Bernie retains her hold on Serena’s hand as she goes on to tell her about Mr Trevor, her second patient of yesterday, who’s 80 and lives with his 74 year old sister in Whitechapel Street. She explains that he’s paralysed in his left arm and suffers from bronchiectasis and that he struggles to get upstairs to his room. She also tells Serena that she thinks he’s suffering with undiagnosed depression and that he thinks he’d be better off in a care home as he doesn’t want to be a burden to his sister. 

“This is why I can’t do this,” Bernie says, her voice low and so full of pain that Serena shuffles along the sofa to sit right next to her. “Our elders deserve better than this.”

“I know, love. I know.” Serena frees her hand in order to wrap her arm around the blonde’s shoulders and gives her a half hug. 

“I’m not going to cry again,” Bernie says fiercely, swiping at her eyes. 

“It’s okay if you do,” the brunette says, reaching over to clasp Bernie’s hand in her free one. “God knows you don’t often. Usually you hide behind ‘good old British reserve’ – when you’re not raging at the Trust’s officers, that is.”

This elicits a weak chuckle. “I know,” she says. “I’m Dr Berenice Wolfe, the ‘game old bag’, the ‘grubby Nightingale’ of Holby’s East End. Striding around, raincoat flapping, fag dangling from the corner of my mouth and the smell of booze on my breath.” She sighs. “I’ve suffered through half a dozen Health Boards, fighting every single one for more care homes, more money, better conditions. Every single one of them fought back, every single Board Chairman – and it was always a man, never a woman, not even recently – wanted nothing more than to play golf or rest on his laurels. As far as they were concerned if you’re old and poor you don’t deserve to be properly cared for, and I’m tired, Serena. I’m just so bloody tired of fighting them all the time.”

Serena leans in and presses a kiss to Bernie’s temple, and is beyond startled when the blonde turns her head and presses a kiss to her lips. She can’t quite help moaning when Bernie’s tongue swipes across her lips, then slips into her mouth. She lets go of the blonde’s hand in order to cup the back of her head, her fingers sliding through that gloriously soft, silken blonde hair. She feels a throb of desire between her legs and groans as Bernie, her right hand cupping the back of Serena’s neck, her left arm wrapped across the brunette’s shoulders, deepens the kiss.

Eventually, however, they’re forced to come up for air and Bernie presses her forehead to Serena’s. “Sorry,” she whispers.

The brunette chuckles. “Don’t be. I’m not. I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks, months even.”

“What?” demands Bernie. “You never said anything.”

Serena snorts. “Of course not, not when you’ve always insisted that you’re better off alone since your bust up with Alex.”

“I’m a silly cow,” Bernie tells her.

“Of course you’re not,” Serena says immediately. She pecks at the blonde’s lips. “Stubborn, driven, passionate, but not silly, never that.”

“I think a small part of me has fancied you since the day we met,” Bernie says, her whole demeanour suddenly gone shy. 

“Well, you certainly kept that under your hat,” Serena says, once she’s got over her surprise.

“I know.” Bernie sighs. “I just – we’re such good friends, Serena, and I never wanted to risk losing our friendship if we attempted something more and then it didn’t work out.”

“And now? What’s changed now?”

“Me,” the blonde says immediately. “I’ve changed. I’ve realised that life’s far too short and we have to snatch happiness whenever and wherever we can. After a quarter of a century spent fighting for others, I think maybe it’s time to fight for myself, for what I want. That’s if you’re interested?”

Serena laughs, a full, rich belly laugh. “‘Am I interested?’, she asks. Of course I’m bloody interested. Didn’t I just snog you half senseless?”

Bernie gives her that shy little half smile. “Well, you certainly tried. I mean, I’m not sure if it was your best shot, or –”

She gets no further because Serena tuts loudly, then swoops in and kisses her with every ounce of passion she possesses. Bernie groans loudly, allowing herself to fall backwards on the sofa and perforce bringing Serena with her since they are locked in each other’s arms.

Their kisses grow increasingly heated and Serena moans when Bernie’s firmly muscled thigh finds its way between her legs, pressing in just the right spot to make her wish they were at home in her luxuriously appointed bed.

Then the phone rings, startling them both, and Bernie almost headbutts Serena as she quickly sits up, gently moves her aside, then gets to her feet and strides across the room to grab up the handset.

“Wolfe,” she says, and Serena sighs softly, then does her best to straighten out her clothes and repair her lipstick where Bernie’s practically kissed it off her lips. She watches from the corner of her eye as the blonde leans her pert bottom against the edge of her desk, listening intently to whoever’s on the phone. 

Eventually, though, the call ends, and Bernie puts the cordless phone back into its charging cradle. “That was Hanssen,” she says with a sigh, referring to the Chairman of the Trust. “He wants to see me right away.”

Serena blows out a breath. “Okay.” 

Bernie pulls on her raincoat, then grabs her satchel, and says, “I’d better let Donna know I’m heading out.”

Serena nods, then waits in the corridor as Bernie speaks to the young woman. Two of Bernie’s colleagues – former colleagues now, Serena supposes – pass and she exchanges greetings with them.

“Will you have dinner with me tonight?” Bernie asks as, hand in hand, they make their way outside into the Spring sunshine and cross the car park towards their cars.

Serena nods. “Okay. Come over to mine, though, and bring an overnight bag.”

Bernie’s eyes widen, then she chuckles, a rich, filthy sound that cheers Serena’s spirits no end. “Yes ma’am,” she says, offering a mock salute. “What time?”

Serena smirks. “Nineteen hundred hours. Or earlier, if you prefer. I do have the day off after all.” She raises one eyebrow and Bernie licks her lips, then nods.

“I’ll be there.”

“Make sure you are, soldier.” She unlocks her car. “Good luck with Hanssen,” she says, pressing a quick kiss to the blonde’s lips. 

“What’s the worst he can do?” asks Bernie, grinning. “Fire me? Too late for that!”

Serena rolls her eyes. “Incorrigible woman. I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll be there,” Bernie promises. 

Serena nods, then climbs into her car. She has to admit to being thrilled by the unexpected developments in her relationship with the blonde. She is delighted, too, at the way that Bernie already seems happier now that she’s quit her job. 

As Bernie’s car passes hers, with a toot of the horn, Serena finds herself hoping that she’ll come over sooner rather than later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least 3 readers expressed a desire for more of this version of Bernie and, well, the Bitch Muse obliged! So this one's for Sev, Sanctitatem, and Rauz!
> 
> Please note the higher rating! This ain't safe for work, kids!

Dr Bernie Wolfe heads home from the surgery after she and Serena part company in the car park because she needs a shower before she sees the Chairman of the NHS Trust. Henrik Hanssen is an incredibly fastidious man, and she knows he will be deeply unimpressed if she rolls up to see him smelling like a distillery and while she’s changed her shirt, she knows she really needs a shower. She also knows she probably shouldn’t be driving, given how much she drank the night before, so she’ll call a taxi as soon as she gets home and arrange for it to arrive about half an hour later. She frowns. Maybe forty five minutes, because the other reason that she needs a shower is that she’s still incredibly aroused after that makeout session on her office sofa with Serena and she needs to take care of that situation, too, or she won’t be able to focus on anything else. 

She parks in her spot in front of her terraced house, then hurries up the steps from the street to the front door and lets herself in. She quickly sheds her coat and boots, and leaves her satchel on the hall table, then climbs the stairs two at a time to reach the bathroom. Once there she sheds her clothes, hanging her shirt on the hook on the back of the bathroom door so that she can put it back on, but tossing everything else in the clothes hamper in the corner. She smirks a little at the state of her boxers as she tosses them after her bra, feeling a little smug at the thought that there’s life in ‘the old bag’ yet.

Then she steps into the shower cubicle under the hot water and groans with relief as it hits her back and shoulders, which are definitely aching after being scrunched up on the sofa, which is just that bit too short for her frame so that she couldn’t stretch out properly. She knows, of course, that it’s her own fault for getting pissed and staying at the surgery instead of coming home to get pissed and then sleeping in her own bed. On the other hand, though, if she hadn’t stayed there last night would she have finally dared to kiss Serena if she hadn’t come to see Bernie in her office this morning? 

She sighs, then grabs the shower gel and begins applying it being careful to avoid, for the moment, her breasts and thighs. Once she’s covered every other part of her body and rinsed off the gel, she applies some to her breasts and thighs, unable to quite hold back a moan as she feels how hard her nipples have already grown. Satisfied that she’s clean, for now, Bernie allows her right hand to drift between her thighs, aware of how much she’s aching for release. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Just over an hour later, Bernie is shown into Henrik Hanssen’s office. 

“Dr Wolfe.” He stands and offers her his hand across her desk, and after they’ve shaken hands, he gestures for her to be seated opposite him.

“Good morning, Mr Hanssen,” she says cheerfully. 

He tilts his head to one side, giving her a steady, considering look, then observes, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy before,” he observes.

Bernie huffs a laugh. “I haven’t been this happy since –” She frowns. “Blimey, not since I completed my medical training. Ouch!” She shakes her head. 

“I’m sorry it’s taken you terminating your employment with us to make you happy.”

“So am I.” She sighs. “But this can’t have come as a surprise, Henrik.”

He shakes his own head slightly. “No, not really. I know how much you’ve been struggling, especially over this last year. While it isn’t a surprise, it is disappointing.” She frowns and opens her mouth to speak, but he puts up a hand, requesting her silence, she supposes, so she closes her mouth again and gives him an expressive look. Hanssen is a remarkably capable chairman and while she despises the Trust’s board for their lack of compassion, she knows that he, at least, is the best of the men she’s seen in his role since she first began working for the South Holby NHS Trust. He has more compassion than any other chairman, but he is still – in her eyes – a bean counter, a man who spends more time worrying about spreadsheets than about patients.

“It’s disappointing that you’re leaving, Dr Wolfe, because you’re an extraordinarily compassionate, caring, and competent doctor. You care deeply about your patients and I know the endless battles you’ve fought on their behalf with those of us who are on the administrative side of things. I’ve always respected your honesty and forthrightness, Dr Wolfe, and the sheer hard work you’ve engaged in daily to look after the people in your care. You will be sorely missed by them and by your colleagues, even if the board of trustees will mostly be glad to see the back of you.”

Bernie snorts at that. “I imagine they’ll throw a party once they hear the news.”

“If they do, I won’t be attending.” 

Bernie gives him a smile. “I presume that I’m here so that we can sort out the paperwork,” she says, wanting to chivvy him along as she very much wants to get to Serena’s.

“Yes.” He passes her some sheets of paper. “These forms will need to be completed in order for your contract of employment to be terminated.” 

She takes them from him with a silent groan: she hates doing paperwork, but the NHS seems to run on paperwork and coffee. 

“There’s also the matter of your outstanding leave and your notice period.”

Bernie frowns at him. “I don’t understand.”

“While it’s true that you have sufficient outstanding leave accumulated to cover the standard notice period of one month, meaning you can actually officially finish your employment today, I – and I’m sure your colleagues at the East End surgery – would appreciate it if you’d spend at least one or two more days there in order to officially hand over your patients to your replacement once we’ve appointed someone.”

Bernie’s frown deepens. “Why? I may hate paperwork with a fiery passion, but I can assure you that it’s all been completed meticulously, and my replacement should be able to pick up from where I’m leaving off without any difficulties.”

“Nevertheless, I feel it would be better for you to spend at least one day at the surgery before your notice period concludes.”

Bernie sighs. “Very well, Mr Hanssen. I trust you’ll notify me when you’ve found someone else to sacrifice to the gods of the NHS?”

“A little overdramatic, Berenice,” Hanssen says with the ghost of a smile.

She rolls her eyes at him. “Do you want me to complete this paperwork now?”

He shakes his head. “Take it away with you. But I’d be grateful if you could return it at the earliest opportunity.”

“Duly noted,” she says. “Is there anything else?”

He gives her another ghost of a smile. “No, thank you, Dr Wolfe.”

She gets to her feet and he stands too, then holds out his hand. “I don’t know what your future holds, Dr Wolfe, but I’m certain that you won’t be letting the grass grow under your feet.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Bernie says as she shakes hands. “After the last quarter century, the prospect of not having anything to do seems impossibly dreamy.”

He chuckles softly. “Ah, but I know you, Dr Wolfe. You’re an incredibly driven woman. I can’t see you idling for very long.”

She tuts, then thrusts the sheaf of papers he’d given her into her satchel, before hooking the strap over her shoulder.

“Take care of yourself, Dr Wolfe.”

“You too, Henrik.”

He gives her a nod and she makes her way out of his office, then heads downstairs in order to grab a taxi back home so that she can get the paperwork completed and out of the way before she packs an overnight bag to stay at Serena’s. She pauses to grab herself an Espresso from the coffeeshop, knowing that the one she’s already had, in addition to a very tiny cup of extraordinarily strong Turkish coffee, isn’t really enough to clear the alcohol from her system and she wants to be able to drive over to Serena’s later.

She’s able to grab a taxi which is just dropping off someone else and she settles back to drink her coffee and check her emails on her phone. As she’s skim reading and deleting the ones which are no longer relevant her phone pings with a text message alert, and she can’t help grinning when she sees Serena’s name.

 _How did it go with Hanssen? I trust you didn’t verbally eviscerate him for all the Trust’s shortcomings? S x_

Bernie chuckles softly at that. _He remains un-eviscerated, both literally and verbally. He already knows what I think of the Trust. B x_

_Any idea what time you’ll get here? S x_

_Not yet. Hanssen gave me a sheaf of paperwork to get through and I’d like to get it done today so that I know it’s out of the way. I’ll text you to let you know when I’m on my way. B x_

_Come at your earliest convenience. S x_

Bernie has to bite back a roar of laughter at that. _Thanks, I already did. B x_

_Berenice Wolfe!!!!_

_Serena Campbell!_

_Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me? S x_

_That I went home after I left you and had a nice long shower and enjoyed some ‘me’ time while I was there? Yes, I am. B x_

_Minx! S x_

_Are you telling me that you haven’t? B x_

_No! I was waiting for you. S x_

_Well, now I feel guilty. B x_

_Don’t! Just get here as soon as you can! S x_

_Will do. Gotta go. Nearly at mine. B xx_

_I’ll be waiting. S xx_

Bernie pockets her phone, pays the taxi driver, then climbs out and makes her way up to her front door for the second time this morning. Letting herself in she dispenses with her coat and boots, then carries her satchel through to the kitchen. She makes herself another coffee, feeling glad that she’d invested in a good coffee machine a few years ago, then she settles at the kitchen table to deal with the paperwork Hanssen gave her. As she steadily works her way through it, a part of her mind can’t help wandering to consider Hanssen’s insistence that she work at least one final day before her replacement takes over. She cannot begin to fathom out why he’d insisted on that since it really is wholly unnecessary: as she’d told him, all her paperwork’s up to date, despite the fact she hates paperwork, because she knows from first-hand experience what it’s like to have to take over someone else’s patients with no notice as an older colleague of hers had one day dropped dead of a heart attack, leaving her in the lurch. The state of his paperwork had been an object lesson in how not to deal with her own and for the last fifteen years Bernie’s been meticulous about getting her paperwork done in a timely fashion, just in case.

She shakes her head mentally, finishes her coffee and sighs with relief as she fills out the final form. She folds them up, then fetches an envelope from the cupboard beneath her bookshelves in her sitting room; the forms go into the envelope and she addresses it in careful capitals, then adds a stamp, before slipping it into her satchel ready to post. She rinses out her coffee cup, then puts it in the dishwasher, then grabs her phone and sends Serena a text.

_Just going to pack that overnight bag, as instructed. B x_

_I’ll be counting the minutes until you get here. S x_

_I’ll be as quick as I can, promise. B x_

_Quicker! S xx_

Bernie chuckles at that, then leaves her phone in the pocket of her satchel as she hurries upstairs to pack some clean clothes and her toiletries for the night. She considers the fact that she doesn’t have to go to work any more and the fact that Serena’s off today and tomorrow, and decides to add extra underwear, just in case she’s invited to spend a second night. 

She double checks she has everything she needs, then makes her way back downstairs and grabs her satchel, too, then slips into her boots and coat before making her way outside to her car. She drops her overnight bag and satchel onto the passenger seat, then pulls out her phone and texts Serena just three words: _On my way! B x_ All she gets back is a string of thumbs up emoji followed by a kiss one. She chuckles, then drops the phone back into her satchel, before pulling on her seat belt and starting up the car.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She’s barely stopped her car on the drive of Serena’s leafy detached house before the front door opens and she sees the other woman waiting in the doorway. She grabs her bags and makes her way up to the front door, and is barely inside before Serena pounces on her, kissing her eagerly, her whole body pressing against Bernie’s.

“Hello to you, too,” she says huskily once Serena pulls back. It’s only when she does that Bernie registers that she’s wearing house slippers and a fluffy robe, and she swallows, the sound audible in the otherwise silent hallway. 

“Someone’s keen,” she observes, looking her up and down.

“Well, someone already had her fun,” Serena retorts, “and some of us don’t want to waste time.”

“And here I thought you’d want to take things slow,” Bernie says lightly, shedding her coat and boots.

“I can’t imagine what gave you that idea.”

Bernie shakes her head. “No, neither can I.” She chuckles weakly. “Well, Ms Campbell, I’m all yours. Where do you want me?” She leers a bit at that, trying to ease the tension and to her relief Serena swats at her arm, but she’s laughing, too. 

“Oh you,” she says. “Bring your bags. We’re going upstairs.”

“Ding dong.”

That elicits another swat at her arm and further laughter. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Hmm. It’s been said about me before.” Bernie grabs Serena’s hand before she can administer any further swats, then tugs her in close and kisses her again. As they kiss she slips her hands underneath the bathrobe and moans into Serena’s mouth as she discovers her bare skin is warm and slightly damp. “Did you shower before I got here?” she asks.

“I did.”

“And did you think about me while you were in the shower?”

“I did.”

“Mm.” Bernie hums against the side of Serena’s neck, a spot just below the other woman’s ear that makes her whimper. She wraps her left arm securely around Serena’s back, then drops her right hand between her legs and tugs lightly on her curls, feeling a thrill shoot through her at the discovery that Serena’s bush is untamed. 

She swallows Serena’s moan of pleasure as she tugs a second time, then slips her hand down over her mound and strokes three of her fingers over her labia, before pressing the middle finger between her lips.

“Oh darling,” she murmurs, “you’re already so wet. Is that for me?”

“Yes!” Serena gasps with what Bernie hopes is pleasure as she eases her finger right inside her, moaning softly as she sinks her finger deeper into her.

“Think I can make you come right here, right now?” 

“Oh god, Bernie! Please!”

“It’s alright, love, I’ve got you.” It’s not long before she adds a second finger to her first, Serena groaning in her ear at the extra penetration. She works her fingers hard and fast, pressing deep inside her as they kiss rather sloppily, the focus of their attention on Bernie’s thrusting fingers as she drives Serena higher and higher. 

“Come for me, love,” Bernie says in a firm tone of voice, and with a shudder, Serena does, her face buried in the crook of Bernie’s neck in order to muffle her wails of pleasure. 

She eases Serena through the aftermath of her orgasm, careful not to overstimulate the other woman, then slips her fingers free.

“Okay?” she asks softly as she draws Serena’s body more tightly against her own.

“Um.” 

She can feel light tremors throughout Serena’s body, and she pulls back a little to ask, “Serena, are you okay?”

“Oh, Bernie, I’m a bit more than okay. I’m ecstatic.”

Bernie chuckles. “Good to know.” She kisses Serena deeply, both her arms wrapped around her.

“You’re overdressed,” she says eventually.

Bernie smirks. “Well, Campbell, you did rather present yourself to me as if you were desperate for some action.”

Serena smirks right back. “I did because I was.” She steps back, then holds out her hand. “Let’s continue this upstairs. I have a rather nice bed I’d like to introduce you to.”

Bernie can’t help laughing at that and the two of them are soon crying with laughter as she fails to restrain her ‘goose honk’ of a laugh. 

Once they’ve managed to calm themselves down they head upstairs, the straps of Bernie’s satchel and overnight bag hooked over her shoulder as she lets Serena lead her up to her room. She’s been in there before: Serena once had the flu and Bernie stayed at the house to both nurse Serena through the flu and look after Adrienne, her mother, who was in a pretty bad way by that point and needed a lot of care and attention that Serena wasn’t fit to give her while she herself was sick. It had been a long week, Bernie recalls, until Serena had recovered sufficient strength to be able to look after Adrienne again.

“Oh! You’ve redecorated,” she can’t help exclaiming when Serena leads her into her room.

She chuckles. “A couple of years ago, actually.”

“Ah.” Bernie looks around, taking in the Spring colours: ivory wallpaper with yellow and mid-green curtains, which remind her of daffodils; pale blue and yellow bedding; and a green carpet that matches the green in the curtains.

“Very nice,” she says, then draws Serena into her arms and kisses her deeply. “But you’re nicer.”

“My god!” she exclaims. “You’ve gone soppy.”

“Rude,” Bernie tells her, and kisses her again.

“Ruder still of you to be fully dressed,” Serena tells her when they part again.

“Perhaps you’d better do something about that, Campbell?”

“I plan to.” 

Serena reaches out and slides down the zipper on her heavy woollen cardigan, then pushes it off Bernie’s shoulders and tugs it off, one arm at a time. She catches it and tosses it onto the easy chair that’s in front of the balcony window, then she begins unbuttoning Bernie’s shirt, her mouth following the path of her fingers over her newly bared skin. Bernie shudders in pleasure at the heat of Serena’s mouth. Her shirt is peeled off and tossed after the cardigan, then Serena steps back, holding Bernie at arm’s length. 

“For a woman of our age, you’ve got an incredibly fit body,” she says and Bernie wonders if she’s imagining the hesitation in her voice, wonders if Serena’s feeling less confident about her own body as a consequence of seeing Bernie’s.

“Well, you can blame most of that on the job,” she tells her, drawing Serena in close and giving her a swift, hungry kiss. “If you were dealing with the physicality of looking after elderly patients, who need lifting, your body would look more like mine.”

“Is it too late to join a gym?”

“Serena.” Bernie kisses her again, equally as hungrily, but less swiftly this time. “Love, I think your body is luscious and I cannot wait to explore it properly.” She skims her hands up and down Serena’s sides beneath the bathrobe she’s still wearing. “I love how curvaceous your body is compared to my stick insect one.”

“You’re not a stick insect!” Serena sounds outraged by Bernie’s self description.

She chuckles. “No, and as far as I’m concerned you’re utterly gorgeous as you are. If you want to join a gym to get fit, that’s your choice. But don’t think you need to do anything like that for my sake.” 

Bernie kisses Serena again, hands cupping her heavy breasts and her thumbs brushing repeatedly over her nipples. “Anyway, you won’t need to go to the gym to keep fit once we’re having sex regularly.” She pulls back as she says this, then smirks, enjoying the shocked look that appears on Serena’s face.

“You’re awfully cocky, Wolfe,” she says in a repressive tone.

Bernie’s smirk widens into a full blown grin. “Well, you’ll see,” she says. Then she unbuttons her skinny jeans and peels them down her legs, before stepping out of them and dropping them on top of the rest of her clothes.

“God, Bernie, you might give a girl some warning before unleashing your endlessly long legs on her.” Serena fans herself with her hand.

She chuckles at that, then reaches for the waistband of her boxers, only for Serena to slap her hand away. 

“Ah, ah. No, you don’t.” Bernie finds herself wrapped in the other woman’s arms and kissed very thoroughly, and it’s only when they pull apart to catch their breath that she realises that her boxers are around her ankles and her bra has been unfastened.

“Sneaky,” Bernie says. 

Serena smirks. “But effective.”

Bernie chuckles again. “Very.” She leans in and kisses the spot behind Serena’s ear that she’d discovered a little while ago, then begins pushing the bathrobe off Serena’s shoulders, kissing a path along her shoulder, then back again, before kissing along her other shoulder. Then she pushes the bathrobe completely free of Serena’s body, drawing her in close to kiss her on the mouth as she steers her towards the bed.

Once they reach it, she lowers Serena down onto the bed, then settles beside her. “Alright?” she asks softly.

“Yes,” Serena answers with a smile. “Can I –” She gestures with her right hand and Bernie snickers. 

“Use your words, love,” she teases. “Unless the Holby City General Hospital’s CEO’s too grand for –” 

She gets no further because Serena pounces, pushing her onto her back and covering Bernie’s mouth with her own, kissing her fiercely until Bernie is breathless. She still gasps, however, when Serena’s fingers slide over her mound, then push her thighs apart and into her slick heat.

“Fuck!” 

The word slips out unintentionally, but Serena takes it in her stride with a warm, rich chuckle. “That is the plan, love.”

It doesn’t take long for Serena to drive her to an orgasm, her hips rising to meet the other woman’s thrusts until she crests the wave of her climax with a cry, whereupon she collapses bonelessly back onto the bed.

“Bloody hell, woman,” she mutters breathlessly.

“And how was it for you, darling?” Serena asks, her voice deeper than usual, which makes Bernie burst out laughing, until the two of them are collapsed on the bed, giggling.

“It was wonderful,” Bernie says eventually, once she has sufficient breath back to speak. She leans over and nuzzles her nose against Serena’s, then kisses her softly. “This really does feel like a new beginning in so many ways. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, love.”

They kiss languidly for a little while, then Bernie dozes off having been awake until quite late the night before as she drafted and redrafted her resignation letter.

She comes to find Serena climbing out of bed and squints muzzily at her.

“Coffee?”

Bernie nods, then closes her eyes. She hasn’t much idea what her future holds, but she hopes it holds more of this with Serena.


End file.
